the friction in your jeans
by Strange Ink
Summary: Derek had a fucking type and it was pale, skinny guys with impossible cheekbones and chucks. And this guy... he was all of that. All of that and, jesus f*cking christ, how were his hands a real thing? Who had fingers like that? Was that f*cking legal?


**notes:** I haven't written an explicit sex scene in awhile so if it's terrible I apologize. I just really love punk aus and there are not enough fic for it on here and I feel determined to contribute. Also, un-beta'd, so any mistakes are all my fault and if you point them out to me I will fix them.

* * *

Derek had met Scott first, had run into him (or more accurately, the other way around) at the liquor store. Derek was replacing his whiskey and Scott was carrying a bottle of red wine and a handle of vodka, a grin plastered to his face despite barreling into another person.

"Dude, is that a neck tat? Totally awesome!"

Derek nodded, not returning the smile but secretly pleased by the attention. He'd gotten the wolfsbane design coloured a week ago and was loving how vibrant the purple in the flowers had come out.

"Where'd you get it done?" the younger guy asked, adjusting his grip on the bottles in his hands.

"A place in New York. I just got here a few days ago."

Derek and his sister, Laura, had decided, after seven years, that it was time to return home. Their old family home, which had been burnt to a husk, had been torn down a few months ago, and they were done avoiding the past. Now they rented an apartment downtown. It was small, but it was nice to be back under the California sun.

"Right on," the kid said. "I'm Scott, by the way. I'd shake your hand but..." At that he raised the bottles up, shrugged, and gave a sheepish smile that pulled a grin from the corners of Derek's mouth. He could already tell that he liked Scott. He liked that he was friendly and was into his tattoos and had an obviously hand-studded vest that he'd adorned with buttons that said things like "save the trees" and "smash the patriarchy."

"Derek," he said, his grin widening.

"Derek, awesome, oh man, you should totally come to the party I'm having at my house."

Derek raised a brow at him and looked pointedly at the bottles. "Small party?"

He laughed. "Just some friends, this is last minute supplies. Apparently one handle of vodka wasn't enough and Lydia flipped her lid when I didn't have wine. Hey, do you know if this cabernet stuff is any good?" He held up the bottle of wine for Derek to see but the older man just shook his head. He knew fuck all about wine, much to his sister's disdain.

"I have no idea, I mostly just drink whiskey."

"I've got some of that too, eh? What do you say?" Scott looked at him with a face that made Derek think of an excited puppy and he found himself agreeing despite his plans to order pizza and marathon Lord of the Rings.

"Awesome!" Scott said excitedly, shuffling his way to the counter, Derek in tow. "You want me to jot down the address or something?"

Derek shrugged. "I'm not doing anything, I can follow you there if you want?"

"Sweet, yeah, that sounds great."

They paid for their respective booze, Scott using what Derek thought might be a fake id but the cashier didn't look twice at it. He remembered his own days of using a fake id and he had to admit he was impressed with how casually Scott had handed it over, like it was the real deal.

Derek followed the younger boy into the parking lot, listening to him chatter about his friends and how awesome they were and how much they would love Derek. Derek just nodded and grinned until they reached their respective vehicles. Scott had a blue jeep that was only a few spaces away from his own dark Camaro and Scott let out a low whistle when he saw Derek's car.

"Nice ride dude, you're putting the jeep to shame over here."

Derek gave a small smile. "It's a nice jeep," he said, mostly just trying to be nice to the kid who had invited him over.

Scott dumped his booze into the passenger seat laughing. "You don't have to compliment it, it's not mine. It's kind of a piece of junk."

Junk was probably _too_ strong a word but he didn't argue the fact, instead just unlocking his own door and depositing his whiskey on the floor.

"I'm not far from here, five minutes tops!" Scott called from out his window. Derek nodded and slid into the driver's seat. He hadn't gone to a party in ages. He used to go out a lot with Laura but he'd never meshed well with her friends. He was too rough around the edges, not sophisticated enough. He wasn't sure where they had gotten the impression that Laura _was_ sophisticated (she drank milk from the carton and wasn't against talking loudly about her sex life in public places) but she wore blazer so that apparently made her classy.

Whatever, Derek liked his leather jacket and ripped jeans. And so what if he'd had blue hair at one point. It had looked good, if not exactly the most conventional.

Scott hadn't lied; they only drove a few minutes before pulling into the driveway of an apartment complex, several cars parked on the pavement and the lawn and music spilling out of the first floor windows. He parked on the curb and jogged across the lawn to where Scott was climbing out of the Jeep, following the younger boy into the house.

It wasn't anything fancy and it reminded Derek a lot of his own place -slightly uneven floors and not a lot of windows. But, unlike his place, it was filled with people and smelled like alcohol and weed, Blink 182 blaring from a beat up laptop perched on an end table between the kitchen and the living room.

Scott placed the booze on the counter amongst several other half-empty bottles of things like rum and schnapps, and was immediately greeted by a pretty brunette girl in combat boots and a Hole t-shirt. She wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his neck, Scott smiling wide in a way that made him look like a puppy. Derek hung back, not sure what to do and feeling a tad awkward. Most of the party seemed to be in the other room but he suddenly felt out of place.

"Allison, hey, this is Derek," Scott said, turning them to face him. "Derek, this is my girlfriend Allison."

The brunette girl smiled wide and waved at him. "Hey, nice to meet you. Did Scott pick you up at the package store?"

Derek nodded. "Err, yeah... does he do that often?" He felt suddenly a bit like a stray dog and he wasn't sure how to react. He suppressed the urge to shuffle his feet. He wasn't twelve.

Allison just laughed. "I'd be lying if I said we hadn't met a few friends that way."

"Errr..."

Scott laughed. "C'mon dude, I'll introduce you to everyone." He disappeared into the living room where a dull roar of chatter and singing was coming from. It wasn't a big room, stuffed full with a threadbare couch and loveseat, a TV with several gaming consoles, a table covered in cups and ashtrays, and beach towels hung over the windows.

"Heeey!" came a loud greeting from just about everyone as Scott entered and Derek found himself smiling again. This was exactly his kind of party.

"Whoa, dude, where'd you pick up the male model?"

Derek's eyes widened and he felt his ears go red with embarrassment. It had come from a guy, probably the same age as Scott, lounging on loveseat, with large honey brown eyes, mussed up hair, and a smattering of moles across his face in a Dead Kennedy's tee, arms covered in a plaid over shirt. He was probably the most intensely attractive person Derek had ever seen. Because Derek had a fucking type and it was pale, skinny guys with impossible cheekbones and chucks. And this guy... he was all of that. All of that and, jesus fucking christ, how were his hands a real thing? Who had fingers like that? Was that fucking legal? He tried desperately not to think about what it would be like to have them wrapped around his cock. He wasn't sure his brain had ever made such a quick jump into the gutter before and if he wasn't trying not to be completely mortified he might have been impressed with himself.

It didn't help that the kid was obviously eyeing him up and down -and looking like he approved of what he saw. Derek was incredibly grateful that he had worn his looser fit jeans because he was definitely getting a bit too excited down there.

Scott was laughing. "Guys, this is Derek. Derek this is Lydia, Erica, Boyd, Danny, Isaac, Kira, Ethan, Jackson-"

"And Stiles," interrupted dreamy guy, gesturing to himself and grinning wide.

"Stiles?" Derek asked before he could stop himself. What kind of name was Stiles anyways?

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah yeah, whatever you're going to say I've already heard. Save it handsome."

Derek felt himself flush and he wished Stiles wouldn't call him that. Usually the guys he found attractive were straight as a board. He didn't think this one was and he was going to start having serious, ah, issues if he didn't stop _looking_ at him like that. Derek had the distinct impression that he was undressing him with his eyes.

He was grateful when the blonde girl -Erica- moved over in her place on the loveseat, allowing him room to sit on the opposite side of the room from Stiles. It wasn't long before there was a drink in his hand and smoke filling the room. He let Erica and Boyd suck him into a conversation about tattoos and then music after revealing that he actually loved Fall Out Boy when Lydia put it on. This seemed to delight Stiles and made the younger boy jump up from where he was sitting with Scott (occasionally ogling Derek through puffs of smoke) and weasel his way onto the loveseat, perching himself precariously on the arm of it.

He leaned into Derek, his face looming above him and grinning. His half lidded eyes were doing all sorts of things to Derek's insides and he resisted the urge to move away, not wanting to let Stiles know just how much he was affecting him. He wanted to play it cool, like he wasn't running a reel of fantasy situations where they ended up back at his place, rolling in the bed and fucking until they couldn't see straight.

"Favourite album?" Stiles asked, his voice kind of breathy. Derek felt his mouth go dry.

"Uh, Infinity On High probably, but uh, I have a soft spot for Under the Cork Tree too."

Stiles' grin got wider. "Excellent choices. You, mister tall dark and handsome, have awesome taste."

Derek could definitely tell he was blushing, reduced to flushed skin and a loss for words by a kid in plaid whose breath smelled like weed and vodka.

"Thanks," he said, staring up at him, vaguely aware that Erica had slid off the cushion next to him and onto the floor next to Boyd, muttering under her breath something that sounded distinctly like "get a room."

This did not help his blushing situation.

It did, however, allow him to move away from Stiles a bit, taking the freshly abandoned seat. Stiles, of course, just slid onto the loveseat next to him, still a bit too close for casual, their knees bumping.

"Look, I'm not being too, like, forward am I?" Stiles asked, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, suddenly looking unsure of himself. "I mean, I don't even know if you're, you know, _into_ guys. And if you're not I'm totally sorry for perving on you or whatever, you're just really attractive and I guess I've probably had a bit too much to drink-"

"I like guys," Derek said, cutting him off when he realized that Stiles was babbling and probably wasn't going to stop any time soon.

"Oh," Stiles said, his eyes widening a bit. "That's... good. Awesome. Me too. I mean, obviously." He let out a frustrated sigh, clearly distressed by his own word vomit, and Derek couldn't help but laugh. Watching Stiles go from flirty and confident to nervous and rambly was more adorable than she be allowed of any one human being.

"Oh god you're laughing at me," he groaned, dropping his head into his hands, slim fingers bunching in his hair. Derek held back the urge to reach out and pull his hands away so he could feel for himself just how soft that hair might be.

"You're cute," he admitted, flushing as he said it. He'd apparently had just the right amount of alcohol that his brain to mouth filter had gone to sleep on him. Honestly he should probably be grateful for that. He was too painfully anxious to say those kinds of things to people he had just met otherwise.

Stiles' head snapped up at his words, eyes blown wide, mouth hanging open. Derek wanted to kiss him. He couldn't remember ever wanting to kiss someone so badly. If he was blushing before he could only imagine the shade of red that his face was currently.

"Get a drink with me," Stiles said suddenly, standing up and looking down at him. Derek blinked, confused.

"What?"

Stiles rolled his eyes, a truly impressive facial gesture. "The kitchen, a drink, c'mon. I'll make you my famous Stilinski Bomb Shot."

"That sounds terrifying," Derek said, rising from the couch and following the younger boy towards the kitchen, pointedly ignoring everyone else in the room. The giggling and lewd comments followed them as they left which just made Stiles roll his eyes more.

"My friends are the worst."

"I like your friends," Derek said mildly, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. Drunk Derek wanted _really_ wanted to reach out and run his hands through the mess that was Stiles' hair. He didn't think the other boy would object necessarily, but well, Derek was still kind of anxious and he hated making the first move on anyone. Especially someone he just met.

"Oh I like them," Stiles said, leaning against the kitchen counter and pulling bottles of alcohol and shot glasses towards him, turning so that Derek couldn't see what he was doing with any of it. "I love all those assholes. But they're still the worst."

Derek smiled, momentarily distracted by the view that was Stiles' ass in the tight jeans he was wearing. Because _goddamn_. And then Stiles was turning again, his mystery shots complete. They were blue. Derek wondered vaguely if he should be afraid but he knew that he would accept any drink Stiles had made for him, regardless of what colour it was.

"So what's in that?" he asked when he realized he hadn't said anything in the last two minutes and Stiles was watching him, an amused glint in his eyes.

I'm not telling you, just drink it," he said (not to Derek's surprise) and pushed one of the shot glasses towards him. It had a skull on it, which wasn't any more reassuring. Derek picked it up and eyed the contents warily.

Stiles rolled his eyes and yeah, Derek was becoming quickly enamoured with that particular gesture.

"C'mon, we'll do it at the same time." He held his own shot glass up to his lips and grinned widely. Derek had to lean against the counter to steady himself. How was this guy affecting him this much? He hadn't even smoked anything.

They downed the shots on the count of three, Stiles counting down with his fingers, popping them out from his closed fist in a way that was highly distracting and Derek almost forgot to take his drink. How had he ended this far gone in such a short period of time?

The shot was sweet and a bit minty, almost like toothpaste. It certainly wasn't the best thing he'd ever had but it was _strong,_ which was probably the point. It burned going down his throat and it didn't take long for him to start feeling it.

"Whoa," he said, his voice coming out a bit breathier than he had intended. When he looked up he realized that Stiles had shifted closer and now they were only a foot apart. Derek became incredibly aware of every inch of his body in relation to Stiles.

"Yeah," Stiles said, eyes switching between holding Derek's gaze and looking at his lips. "I really want to kiss you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." And with that he leaned forward, his body pressed against Derek's, and crashed their lips clumsily together.

Derek yielded immediately, mostly because he wanted this just as badly, but also because Stiles was a bit uncoordinated and had knocked their teeth together a bit and he feared for the safety of his mouth if he resisted. So instead he wrapped his arms around the other boy, sliding their hips together and making them both moan a little into the kiss. He was pleased to discover that he was not the only one sporting a hard on as he could clearly feel Stiles' erection straining against his jeans as he tried to rut against Derek's hip.

And kissing him was intense. He tasted like boozy mint and weed and it should have been a total turn off, but he was licking into Derek's mouth, dragging his tongue across teeth and Derek was gone. It didn't matter that they were drunk and clumsy and didn't really know each other at all.

Stiles was funny and liked Fall Out Boy and had made him a drink, albeit a pretty crappy one.

It was perfect.

And when they pulled away Stiles was looking at him with half-lidded eyes and kiss-swollen lips and Derek suddenly wished they were not in Scott's kitchen. But he wasn't sober enough to drive them to his place, that was for damn sure. That was even if...

"We should definitely go somewhere not here," Stiles said, interrupting his thought process and nodding his head towards the living room.

Derek tightened his grip around him, happy that Stiles was just affected by this as he was, just as willing to get this show on the road. Or you know, not show, seeing as they were trying to avoid being gawked at by all Stiles' friends.

"I don't think either of us is fit to drive," he said, leaning forward to nip affectionately at the other man's neck. Stiles let out a satisfying little gasp that turned into a moan when Derek kissed the hollow behind his ear, sucking slightly.

"Oh fuuuuck," he said and Derek smiled against his skin.

"I... fuck, I, stoooop doing that, I can't think when you do that."

Derek pulled away, grinning at Stiles who was trying to look reprimanding but only looked dazed.

"I live next door," he said finally, his eyes meeting Derek's with that mischievous glint.

"Then why the hell are we still here?"

Stiles thumped him on the arm, but it was a light gesture, more affectionate than anything, and dragged him by the wrist out the door, hollering over his shoulder at the others.

"We're leaving, see you tomorrow Scott!"

"Ooooo," came Erica's sing-songy voice from the other room, her head popping around the corner. "Stiles is getting laaaaaid."

"Damn straight I am, see you losers later."

Derek felt a blush creep back onto his face as Stiles shut the door behind them, still holding his wrist, and led them down the steps and towards the apartment building next door.

"I wanted to get the place above Scott and Allison," he was saying, "but Erica and Boyd ended up taking it before I could get the money together for first and last."

He was now leading them around the back of the building where there was a set of wooden stairs that led to what looked like an attic apartment. They started to climb and Derek was struck by a thought.

"Do you have a roommate?"

Stiles shot him a grin over his shoulder. "Nope."

"Good."

It turned out Stiles had a studio apartment, the ceiling slanted into a point with the furniture for the bedroom, living room, and kitchen all kind of squished together, with a door to what was presumably the bathroom off to the side. There wasn't much in it -a beat up sofa, a rickety looking table with a few equally unstable looking chairs, a mattress in the corner, and a tangle of video game controllers and consoles crowded around a surprisingly nice TV, all with wrinkled band posters tacked up onto the walls.

"It's, ah, not much," he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking around the space as if it had betrayed him. "Sorry for the mess."

Derek rolled his eyes and grabbed him by the waist, spinning him so they were against the now shut door.

"Stop talking," he said, hiking up Stiles' shirt and running his palms over the exposed skin of his ribcage.

"Number one thing to know about me dude," he said, his voice a bit strained. "I never stop talking."

Derek pressed a forceful kiss against his lips, humming his approval at the desperate little noise Stiles made at the back of this throat.

"Then I'll make you."

"I'm a screamer."

The thought of Stiles screaming beneath him, gripping the sheets and cursing while he came, while Derek pushed into him over and over again...

If Derek's cock hadn't been at attention before it certainly was now and he groaned, grinding their hips together.

"Then I'm going to make you scream my name so loud that all your neighbours know just how hard you're being fucked and who's doing it."

Stiles inhaled sharply. "Is that a promise?"

Derek's only response as to hoist him up so that their cocks were rubbing against each other through (too many) layers of clothes and carry him across the room, dumping him unceremoniously onto the bed.

"I'll take that as a yes."

They wasted no time stripping off their clothes, the alcohol making them a bit clumsy but no less eager, and soon they were rolling naked around the bed together, hands roaming freely. Derek found that Stiles actually had several tattoos up his arms and one on his leg, which only made him even more ridiculously attractive. And Stiles didn't seem too disappointed in what Derek had under his clothes either.

"What the fuck dude, are you _actually_ a model or something?" Stiles asked, running his hands over Derek's abs, staring at the ridges of muscle, slightly slack-jawed. Derek started to laugh but it turned abruptly into a moan as Stiles swept his hand upward and lightly flicked one of his nipples. Derek felt his cock twitch between them. His nipples had always been a bit hyper sensitive and the sight of Stiles fingers rolling one around was a fucking dream.

Encouraged, the younger man leaned forward and dragged his tongue over the other one, pulling another moan from Derek who gripped his waist and held it, rubbing their cocks together.

"I want to fuck you."

"Then what are you waiting for?" Stiles replied, pulling away enough to grope around between the wall and the mattress. He threw a condom and bottle of lube at Derek, grinning. "Let's go dude."

"Don't call me dude."

Stiles looked like he might object but Derek cut him off, dragging him back and flipping him over onto his stomach. Stiles took no time propping himself up on his knees, wiggling his ass slightly as he presented himself to Derek.

And what an ass. It looked even better bare than it did in his stupidly tight jeans. Derek was sure he'd never seen such a perfect ass before -toned, if kind of pale, with a delicious looking mole on the right cheek.

"Fuck you're perfect," he growled, leaning forward to kneed at the flesh, running his thumbs just shy of his hole, which elicited a beautiful whine from Stiles who thrust backwards into the touch.

"Derek come on, don't be a fucking tease."

But Derek's head was feeling a little less fuzzier then before and all he wanted to do was tease the younger man. He wanted Stiles to squirm underneath him, bring him right to the edge and listen to him beg for it -to plead with Derek to stick his cock in him.

He let one thumb slide closer again, brushing lightly over his opening, enjoying the noises the other man was making. Noises that turned into a drawn out "fuuuuck" when he slid inside, not far, but enough to make Stiles thrust backwards again.

Derek didn't give him the satisfaction though, instead removing his thumb so he could lick at his hole, cheeks spread wide. Stiles writhed and panted, gripping the blankets tightly as Derek licked into him, probing with his tongue and making a mess of him.

And when he was sure he was wet and worked up enough, he slowly inserted one finger, only adding a second when Stiles started to call him a colourful variety of names. When he pushed in again it was a bit quicker and he scissored his fingers, making Stiles keen. He worked him open like that for a few minutes, occasionally licking around where his fingers were, intent on completely ruining him.

He licked a striped from his balls to the small of his back before he pulled away, rocking back onto his heels. They were both a wreck, their erections heavy and hard and leaking pre-come over the bed.

Derek had the condom open and was rolling it on in seconds, his cock twitching a bit under his hands. He was so fucking hard. He grabbed the lube and uncapped it, squeezing it over Stiles' ass and working it in with his fingers while Stiles mewled and panted.

And when Derek finally pushed inside, slowly sheathing himself in what was _definitely_ the most perfect fucking ass, he knew he wasn't going to last long. Stiles was tight and hot and felt like fucking heaven. Seriously, if heaven existed, he was sure this was it.

He tried to be patient, to thrust in and out at a steady rhythm and draw it out for the both of them, but Stiles wasn't having any of it.

"Dude just _fuck_ me, I won't break," he panted, pushing back with enough force that Derek bottomed out inside him. "_Fuck. Me_."

Derek didn't really need any more prompting than that, hunching over so that he could stroke Stiles' cock while he pounded into him, breathing heavily onto the sweat-slicked skin of his back.

Stiles hadn't lied -he was _loud_ while he was being fucked. He gasped and panted and babbled –"Derek, Derek, oh god, oh fuck, you feel so good, sweet mother of –I'm going to come, fuuuu-"

He broke off with a strangled cry and came over Derek's hand, his cock twitching and his muscles tightening around Derek who was buried deep inside of him. Derek slammed into him once, twice more before he was seeing stars, coming hard.

They collapsed, a tangle of sweaty limbs, breathing heavily.

"God you're amazing," Stiles said, flipping over to face Derek, throwing his leg over the other man's thigh.

"So are you," Derek murmured, nosing at his neck to place kisses along the damp skin there. Stiles let out a shaky laugh and wrapped himself more fully around him, hand coming up to trace the tattoo on Derek's neck.

They were silent for a few minutes, content to lie in post-coital bliss, drifting in and out of the sleep that was threatening to take them both over. It was the most comfortable Derek had been with anyone in a long time –since Kate, before she went off the deep end. He realized he didn't want this to be a one time thing. He wanted Stiles again and again. He wanted to listen to him talk about music and hear his laugh and know what it would feel like to let Stiles fuck _him_ next time.

"Let me take you out for coffee in the morning," Derek said, fighting to keep himself awake long enough to let Stiles know. He couldn't stand the idea of going to sleep without letting him know how much he wanted the possibility of this. He had to make sure they were on the same page.

"Oh good," Stiles said, "I thought I was going to have to ask _you _and then _I'd_ have to pay and I'm pretty broke to be honest."

Derek rolled his eyes even though Stiles wasn't looking at him, his face buried in Derek's chest, and pulled the other man closer. "Go to sleep."

* * *

**The Morning After**

"Who even drinks black coffee? What are you an alien?" Stiles asked, hands flailing as they took a seat to wait for their order.

"What's wrong with black coffee?" Derek asked indignantly.

Stiles scrunched up his face in disgust like he couldn't believe that was a question Derek seriously had to ask. "It's always super hot, like burn your mouth hot, and bitter."

"Just like me," Derek deadpanned.

Stiles gaped at him and then groaned, dropping his head onto the table. "Oh god, you're lucky you're so fucking attractive, that was the worst joke I've ever heard, and I'm friends with Scott."

Derek just grinned at him. "Did I leave a bitter taste in your mouth?"

"God stop, it's dead, you've killed it, and –Derek Hale that was highly inappropriate oh my god!"

"So you'd say I taste good then?" At this point Derek was barely keeping back his laughter and Stiles had turned an impressive shade of red.

"I can't believe you just said that, I'm leaving."

"I won't pay for your coffee if you leave."

Stiles narrowed his eyes at him but his overall expression was stupidly fond and it made Derek's heart do something funny in his chest.

"Well you've got me there Hale, I guess I'll stay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."


End file.
